Perhaps I should've raised them with religion. Then we could have practiced morning devotionals. In silence.
So all the words, well, they just sit inside unrecorded. Except for these.
The miles have been passing quietly. I crave intense silence these days. Gone, for now, are the days of blaring music. I want to hear the measured pace of my breathing, my footfalls, that chorus of welcoming nature sounds out there in the dirt. I'm going down my mental checklists as I trot along...where are my arms? Am I moving at the elbow or the shoulder? Are my shoulders back? Head upright? Am I relaxed? These questions are such a welcome relief from the questions of life. They're easily answered. Corrections can be made. It's simplicity. And I'm clear, these small corrections, these details make me able to endure longer hours and more miles with less effort, less energy expended. It's like an equation for living, not letting this life energy slip out in sloppiness and inattention.
And I signed up to endure -- 25K -- so these miles have been spent training to do just that. Peacefully, quietly, happily.
I found I grew increasingly introspective, reflective, quiet as race day approached. All the places I look for inspiration, support, encouragement...well, there was a block there. My house was quiet. My boys gone. All except one. The day before the race was rainy. I worked -- typed -- quietly, surprised at the depth of my need for solitude. At some point, I suffered a crushing paper cut and thought this was sufficient reason for pulling out of the race. In some minutes of quiet, the head can come up with the most absurd ideas that seem completely logical. Which is why this girl occasionally needs to break the silence. Get input from outside. And before this race, this is what that outside grace sounded like:
And my life, it has come down to the women for survival. Don't get me wrong, boys and men are fabulous. I love them and think they're great, but in my life, I look around and easily see the profound efforts of women carrying this society along. How could I not? I'm a midwife. I watch women all the time dig deeper than they ever knew existed inside their very own selves and come up with making the impossible possible. I see them in the midst of the truly singular journey surrounded by their loves, but accomplishing something that only they can accomplish. It's humbling to bear witness to such strength and perseverance in the face of doubt, exhaustion, fear. It's more humbling still to see the results of their efforts. And it's even more humbling to stand in their presence after their transformation...from woman who didn't believe to woman who did.
Quite logically, you can see how these women are my inspiration and my drive as I pass the miles, take the next step, continue on a path that seems impossible. I hold them close to me and carry them along the miles. They are better than any sports drink ever. They are my aid stations.
So as I drove to the race -- this 25K race -- I wondered to myself why I run. The answer seems to evolve as the days pass. I add new answers as I grow up and grow older. I run for relief, for solitude, for fitness, for spiritual rearrangement. But I had to ask myself the other morning, do I run for penance? It was rainy, cold, muddy. The run promised to be harsh. And for what? Was I running as a form of amends for trespasses against others? To reconcile trespasses against me? Was I running from? Was I running to?
And I had to admit, I run to leave things behind. I leave behind those bits of me, the aspects of living, the ideas that hold no more promise. I leave behind the sadnesses and the heartbreaks. I leave behind the the seeds that have no hope of sprouting flowers. Surprising things happen out there as I shed the obsolete. A new world opens and for everything I leave behind, I replace it with something plucked from along the path, something creative and life-giving, something reliable and sure, something new and steady.
And so this is what I found on the trail that day, as I hiked up wet, slippery hills, got pelted by rain, and endured the wind: I'm running WITH these days. I'm running with me. I'm running with life as it is. I'm running with certainty in uncertain conditions. I'm running with peace. I'm running with quiet. I'm running with people -- the ones I carry inside, and, surprisingly, the ones running alongside me. I am there, a part of a whole and whole being apart.
The moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves, too.
All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have
occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, which no one
could have dreamed would have come their way.
-- W. H. Murray
